The Prince Time Forgot
by jCOOLn
Summary: Harry is reborn as the son of Torrhen Stark and Rhaenys Targaryens but due to a series of circumstances outside of his control he is forced into a magical sleep for over two centuries. When he awakens his mother's family has fallen and he is labeled as danger simply because he exists... and because he is a dragon rider. Harold Targaryen-Stark/Harem/Lemons/Meraxes as Harry's Dragon
1. Chapter 1

**The Prince that Time Forgot**

 **Chapter One: Awakening**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own A Song of Ice and Fire, so don't sue me**

 **-I am a free writer, and I write when I feel like it, I am not on a schedule, so therefore updates will be infrequent.**

 **-If I lose interest in this story I might just stop writing all together, though in the future I may find interest in it again and then take up updating it then.**

 **-There maybe lemons, profane language, character/death, prostitution, possibly torture or abuse (though not on Harry), lying, and probably other sins. If this bothers you then don't read. You have been warned.**

 **-Harry will participate in polygamy/bigamy, extramarital relations, and other acts of sexuality, though no homosexuality, so if this bothers you then don't read.**

 **-The pairings are undecided, if you have a suggestion I will be putting up a poll soon, so use that. Do not message me when I have a poll up. It defeats the purpose of having a poll in the first place.**

 **XXX**

 **This is a rough draft. I may go back and change some stuff or just clean it up**

 **XXX**

Dragonmont had been rumbling for days now. A stream of smoke could be seen slowly rising from the side of the volcano and slowly raising up towards the sky. The one of the Maesters feared that the mountain would explode, but the other believed that there was a hole in the volcano and that the lava inside would flow out on the uninhabited side of the island.

Regardless of which was right the new Lord of Dragonstone, Stannis Baratheon, had mobilized a small fleet around Dragonstone incase evacuation became a necessity. Only the people in the keep would make it to the ships in time, but at least some of the small folk would survive. Even if they had dragon's blood in their veins, much to Stannis' distaste.

What none of the Maesters or lords could have guessed was that the cause of the smoke was twofold. The weakening of a magical stasis field that had helped reinforce the walls of Dragonmont and the awakening of a dragon whose very presence strengthened the magma via magical properties. As the master woke up and the spell weakened so to did the volcanic wall. Soon magma would spill over and down the mountain.

Along with the mighty dragon was its rider. He had inherited the dragon from his mother many years ago but blood relations were not enough to claim a dragon. Had he not been strong enough in either body or mind the great beast would have snapped him up for dinner regardless of his relation to its last rider.

Slowly his eyes began to open. A shade of purple not seen since Aerion Targaryen that glowed with power. Those two eyes glowed with an unnatural power and made them visible even inside the dark cave.

Slowly the owner of those two eyes groaned a bit as he slowly sat up from the bed that felt more like a stone slab. He moved slightly and the sound of cloth tearing spread through the dark tunnel. More groans echoed from the subject though now for a different reason.

With a snap of his fingers a glowing red bulb of fire started to float over his outstretched hand. The small orb of fire did not give off any heat but did produce enough light to illuminate the cave its creator resided in at the moment.

Hair like polished silver instantly came into view followed by a strong porcelain face. The face belonged to a young man in his late to early twenties. The two amythest colored eyes seemed to glow in the presence of such light. From his defined muscular figure to his chiseled face the youth was seemingly perfect.

He stood up and the rest of his clothes tore leaving him in nothing but his small clothes. Cursing he walked over to a small chest that he had prepared just for this occasion. Leather breaches, silken shirts, leather belt, and his sword were all reapplied. They were basic though that had been the point considering when he went into stasis he was being hunted down

Being completely ignored by the human was a monstrous creature resting behind him. Its scales were like polished silver reflecting the fiery light beautifully. On its head the two horns that stuck up were a molten gold color like a natural crown resting above its brow. Along the dragon's back the spinal plates were also a molten gold color separating the silvery scales and silver spinal spikes. Finally the eyes of the beast which were like two molten pools of gold reflected a brutal animal cunning.

The dragon was of a size that it could swallow an entire horse whole without any difficulties. It being the second largest dragon of its age before its sequential entombment inside this cave was once well known. It had fangs like long swords each polished to perfection reflecting the image of any unlucky soul unlucky enough to get close enough to see such a thing. In truth it was the destructive element of fire made flesh.

Behind it a thick billow of smoke was rising from behind it. Because the dragon's heart had been stopped as well as its breath there was no fear of the smoke suffocating it. What was causing the smoke no doubt was lava from Dragonmont. It seems the volcanic mountain was more active than previously believed. Whether it would blow or if it was just a crack in the walls was unknown. It was believed that leaving was the best option for not even a dragon could survive being dipped in magma.

It was possible dragon riders would be coming from House Targaryen to see what was going on. He had evaded them last time, but who knew how long it had been or what was going on now. He may have evaded one war only to get caught up in another. That just wasn't something he was interested in.

The young man looked over at his sleeping dragon and contemplated what he should do. On one hand the magma could pop up any moment to consume it though there was a change it wouldn't come at all.

The other factor that needed to be looked at was that when said dragon was woken up it would be very hungry. There were not many things as dangerous as a hungry dragon in their world which was well known. Even with his natural disposition for controlling animals thanks to his father's side of the family it was still not easy controlling such a powerful beast driven to hunt and destroy to sate its innate hunger.

In the end he decided it best to just let the dragon sleep a little longer. The spell keeping it asleep would only hold for a short while longer. It was best to scout out a good place to direct its hunt while looking for some grub to sate his own hunger than hold onto the creature's mind while doing his search.

He grabbed a black cape and took off. He traveled quickly through the tunnel before exiting to see the starry night sky. Off in the distance he saw Dragonstone. It didn't look any different from when he left so he assumed he hadn't been asleep for as long as he had suspected.

 **XXX**

Things had not gone as he had assumed. Getting to the town outside of Dragonstone hadn't been so difficult. Traveling down a mountain wasn't so bad. Walking through a large forest was no big deal. Doing both in the dark with only stars to guide him made things a bit trickery but not impossible. Buying something, impossible.

From out of nowhere soldiers of House Baratheon had swarmed him before tackling him to the ground. They had him beaten down and shackled in a matter of moments. His head was still ringing from the knee he took to the temple from an especially violent one.

They didn't even give him the dignity of walking. They just tied him up and threw him over an ass which carried him to the keep. Of course his insults didn't help him any and soon on top of being bound he was gagged as well. He didn't question what the rag had been used for previously. He didn't want to know. It could be a douche rag for all he knew and that wasn't something someone wanted to live with in their memories.

He had assumed that maybe a Baratheon lord had come to Dragonstone for some reason. More than likely a tourney. Anything fighting and you had yourself a hot spot for Baratheon activity. But no tourney was taken place as far as he could see. Oddly enough none of the guards sported House Targaryen sigils. They were all of House Baratheon.

They took him down to the cells underneath the Stone Drum Tower. Like the rumors said it was warmer than expected though still as damp as any island such as Dragonstone was expected to be. At least they let him sit on the wooden stool. That was nice of them.

It didn't take long for the Lord of Dragonstone to show up. First impression? This guy has never smiled once in a day of his life. His face was so hard, so dour, so unnaturally stern that it might crack if he tried to smile at this point. Second impression? Same as the first.

He didn't say anything as he sat across from him. He just placed his elbows on the wooden table and folded his fingers together as he glared at him. They sat like that for a while before the dour man spoke. And what a dull voice it was.

"You were arrested in town earlier today" began the Baratheon.

"Yea I am aware" replied Harold as he lifted his hands up. The rattling of chains and the visual presence of the cuffs did not cause any change in the man's facial features. "My question is why?"

"You were arrested for treason against your king." He glanced down at Harold's shirt. "You wear the sigil of House Targaryen. Why?"

How had he committed treason against his own house? He hadn't even gotten a chance to say anything besides how much some meat was before he was arrested. He questioned if the Baratheon believed him to be a peasant wearing the sigil of House Targaryen. That is a crime after all.

"I am a member of House Targaryen." Seeing no change in the man's facial features he continued. "The name is Harold Stark. I am Rhaenys' son!"

The Baratheon made a gesture to the guard standing behind Harold. The guard nodded before walking forward. Fast as lightning he smashed a wooden stick across Harold's back causing him to hiss loudly.

"There have only been two Rhaenys Targaryens in the history of Westeros. The first was the sister wife of Aegon the Conquer. The second was the daughter of Elia Martell who was murdered by Ser Amory Lorch during the Sack of King's Landing. Now, unless you wished to be flogged once again, I suggest you start telling me the truth."

He didn't know who Elia Martell was, but he did know who the Martell Family was. He didn't know a Ser Amory Lorch though if he ever met him he would run his blade through his heart. And most importantly he didn't know what the Sack of King's Landing was. Perhaps it happened during his niece and nephew's war.

Ignoring the pain in his back he looked back up at the Baratheon. "I want word to be sent to the King. He should know what is happening to a member of his own house!"

He received another lashing for that. Whether it was for ordering him to do something or just his tone he didn't know. It could have also been because he didn't say what the Baratheon wanted him to. Either way he was going to get him back for this.

"Listen, Dragonspawn, I don't know what you are getting at, but House Baratheon rules the Seven Kingdoms, not House Targaryen." He could hear glass shattering in his head from the shock of that statement. "And I am Stannis Baratheon, younger brother of King Robert I Baratheon! So if I were you I would start talking and show a bit more respect."

 **XXX**

Twelve lashing later and they had thrown him into a tiny cells with only straw to keep him from sleeping on stone. He was sure that the whelps on his back were going to hurt just as much tomorrow as they were hurting him at that moment.

Still his mind barely acknowledge the stinging throbbing pain in his back. He was so confused. House Baratheon ruled the Seven Kingdoms? How had that happened? Did they sneak attack the Targaryens after that war when they were at their weakest? Surely the other houses hadn't gone along with that.

Still a war between two factions of Targaryens wasn't a small event. Who knew how destruction his family wrought in that war. Maybe the other lords just said enough and rebelled. Maybe the older dragons had been killed in the war and the younger ones useless against the massive forces rallied against them.

He didn't know, he couldn't know, until someone started to answer some of his questions. While racking his mind he almost didn't hear the sound of the door to his cell opening up. Turning over he was surprised to see a young girl, probably ten years old, standing there with a small jar in her hands.

He instantly noticed the similarities between her and the Baratheon from earlier. Must be his daughter, poor girl, probably hasn't had much fun in her life with a dad like that. Still he put that on hold as she approached him.

She had big ears and Greyscales. The ears absently reminded him of a friend who once had large teeth that had bothered her. The shrinking charm had taken care of that. The Greyscales was something else entirely. How this little girl had survived without being taken over by it was amazing in and of itself.

"Uhmm" she had a timid tone. "Does your back hurt?"

Anyone else would have received heavy sarcasm and insults, but not this little girl. She had a look in her eyes like she knew suffering and he wouldn't be adding on to the pile.

"Just a little" he lied heavily. "The pain has subsided quite a bit." Another lie.

"Well" she began as she stepped forward and stretched out her hand holding the jar. "This paste is supposed to help with swelling and prevent infection. Would you like some?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. Where were the guards posted outside of his door. Surely this little girl wasn't able to order them away. If she wasn't working alone then he was worried about what may be in the jar. Still, it was worth the risk. His back was killing him already.

"Yes, please" he said softly. They had taken his shirt and burned it for being the marking of defeated noble House of Targaryen. The Baratheons didn't seem to care for the former rulers of the lands too much which was odd as they were the most loyal to the crown before the war.

She went to open the jar but a large balding man walked in and crossed his arms. "My lady, you do not have time to stay here. If your father finds out you will be in big trouble."

"Alright, Ser Davos Seaworth" spoke the girl before she handed Harold the jar. "Sorry I cannot apply it to your back for you."

"No, thank you, this is very nice of you." He didn't mention how he didn't want a sweet little girl to see what her father had done to his back. It wasn't pretty that was for sure. "My name is Harold. What is yours?"

"Shireen Baratheon, the only child of my father Stannis Baratheon." She smiled a bit which caused the Greyscales on her cheeks to crinkle slightly.

"Well Shireen, thank you for doing what you did" but then his tone became a bit more ominous. "No matter what happens tonight, do not leave your room. Do you understand me?"

She didn't seem to get what he was saying, but the knight surely did. His hand slowly reached for his blade but did not draw it. No doubt he would be telling his lord soon enough. It mattered little. By sunrise the next day this Stannis Baratheon would be dead as well as that guy who went to town on his back. That ass whipping reminded him a bit too much of his first life. That was a man he wish he could have fed to a dragon.

"Ok" was all Shireen said before the knight ushered her out of the room.

After applying the salve he fell asleep on his stomach.

 **XXX**

He didn't get much sleep however. Though that was understandable for anyone who had just been flogged several times. In his dark cell the light of a fire cast darkness from its presence waking up Harold. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he turned over to see who had decided to come visit him. He sighed in annoyance as soon as he saw her.

She was an interesting one. His first visitor was a little girl now a woman has come to see to him. He figured he was lucky it wasn't torturers and sweaty men. Still, this was not the type of woman he wanted visiting him in the slightest.

Hair like burnished copper and skin that was pale and unblemished. She was graceful, slender, and taller than most of the knights that he had seen in his lifetime. Her breasts were full, her waist narrow, and her face heart shaped.

It was her clothes and that choker around her neck that made him unhappy to see her. He had seen her kind before. Priests and Priestesses of the Red God R'hllor. He was happy that they hadn't found many willing to convert to their religion in Westeros. Bunch of black magic using morons who didn't know a thing about what they were really doing.

"Now what would a Red Priestess be doing in a place like this I wonder." He spoke sarcastically but he was genuinely curious. He hoped that the cults of R'hllor were not common in Westeros now.

"I tried to look into your future and do you know what I saw?" He didn't like his questions answered with questions but he decided to play along and shrugged. "I saw this keep burning. I saw men burning alive, I saw stone melting, and I saw darkness twisting from the forest."

"Oh, that's not good. Is Dragonmont going to erupt?" He moved a bit to get more comfortable. He took special precaution not to injure his back anymore than it already was. "Because if so I would like to at least have the door to my cell open when it does."

The light that danced across her face gave her a dark look. "I don't know what you are planning, but whatever it is R'hllor will show me and I will put a stop to it."

"Well you are doing a good job" replied Harold. "I was trying to get some sleep and you ruined that for me, so… congratulations."

She gave him a dark look and the choker around her neck started to glow an ominous red. He could feel a tendril of thought brush up against his mental shields but it was insignificant against his mental fortress. It was so weak he wanted to laugh. He questioned if she was able to read minds with such a weak mental probe or if emotions was all she got.

Eventually she retracted her probe. She must of realized that it wasn't going to work. The look of boredom she received from Harold didn't help anything either. She was playing a game of magic against a master. Such petty tricks may work on the weak minded or the gullible but they wouldn't work on him.

"A half assed witch such as yourself doesn't stand a chance against a master of the art such as me. Do yourself a favor and do what you do best. Your cheep tricks and broad words may fool those unfamiliar with real magic but they are an insult to us who practice the art in full."

She left in a angry huff. While he did believe she had no clue what magic was he didn't doubt that she knew some powerful spells. Anyone, if they practice enough, will be able to learn to use a single spell. Its just like painting a single picture again and again. Eventually you will get better results each time.

He also knew that the people of this world had a perchance for divination unlike his previous one. Even normal every day people seemed to have prophetic dreams every now and again. Her study of magic and her solid belief in her god allowed her to interpret the visions more clearly, which gave her a serious advantage.

Still, she wouldn't be a threat for long. Let her stare into the flames for as long as she wished. Come morning she will have gotten all the flames she could ever wish for.

 **XXX**

Just before the sun rose in the east the sound of thunder echoed across Dragonstone. The skies were still the black of night yet clear enough to still see the stars above. No thunderstorm could be seen overhead or out in the distance. Yet the thunder grew louder and louder until it seemed to rattle the very stonework of the keep.

The Baratheon guards stationed on top of Dragonmont constantly gazed up into the sky searching for the source of the noise. It was not until the first died that many realized what was going on. The blinding light of dragon fire in the dark of night illuminated the keep casting crazed shadows across the black stone.

One stream was followed by a second which was accompanied by a third. Screams soon echoed through the night as soldiers were cooked alive in their armor. A beast straight out of legend which had not been seen for centuries fell from the skies unto the helpless defenders. The beast of war and destruction gave no warning besides a deafening cry that jolted the senses before unleashing its mighty flames.

A horn began to sound alerting the parts of the keep which were unaware that they were under attack. Soldier who had been sleeping off shift soon grabbed their armor and spears to meet their attackers head on. The horn was soon destroyed. The man blowing upon the massive horn was roasted alive like his brethren for upsetting the creature's sensitive sense of hearing. The narrow tower it sat atop soon toppled down as the beast rested upon it in order to feast on the man's helpless carcass.

The wanton destruction was felt at all points of the keep. Men rushed out of the keep like ants to an ant hill yet for all it did was hasten their demise. Dragons were smart for animals and knew the best places to wait for prey to come to them.

A large gate soon opened as nearly a hundred men ran out into the courtyard hoping to make it to the black walls yet they soon fell to the mighty beast's trap. Holed up at the entrance before they could get a good run a deadly stream of flames rushed forward and down the halls.

Not a single man survived the attack.

The beast, a mighty dragon nearly the size of Balerion the Black Dread, moved on. Coming to this keep it had but three purposes. The first two had been simple for such a mighty beast. Destruction and food came hand in hand to a creature such as it.

It feasted on the carcasses of the burnt defenders with a dark delight. Plate armor, leather, or burns did nothing to deter the massive beast from taking its spoils. As it dipped its head down to eat another group of dead humans a large bolt smashed into its armored side.

Unfortunately for the defender the bolt deflected from the dragon's scales harmlessly. In the end all the human manning the scorpion had done was draw in the great beast's attention. The men tried to reload for a second shot but were not fast enough. They and the scorpion burned in dragon fire that night.

The dragon gorged itself on the corpses of humans it slew until its maddening hunger abated. Once satisfied with its meal the beautiful dragon raised its silvery head upwards towards the moon and roared the roar of a conquering monster from the blackest of nightmares.

 **XXX**

There was a clashing sound coming from outside of his cell. The guard who had been sent to watch him stood up clutching the long sword at his hip. Soon a group of men burst through the door charging the lone guard. He did not last long. A sword through the thigh and an ax to the neck snuffed the man's life out rather quickly.

Harold watched these men closely. At first he had assumed it was some of the Stag Lord's men come to finish him off. Assuming they were smart enough to put two and two together to figure out that he was responsible for the dragon at their walls that is. That being said with the Stag Lord's personality it was more likely the man would want to finish him off with his own bare hands. That or give him to his witch for ingredients in some twisted spell or other.

That though was tossed out the window when the guard was killed. The men who were wearing black cloaks soon removed them to reveal the emblem of House Velaryon. The sea green and gold seahorse was a sigil Harold was quite familiar with considering they were lords who had come from Valyria as well.

The leader of these Velaryon men took a step towards the dead guard's body before fishing out the cell keys. He wasted no time in unlocking Harold's cell and then unlocking the shackles around his wrists and legs. Once freed of such confines Harold stood up rubbing his wrists which had turned red from how tight they had been.

"My lord" spoke the Velaryon as he and his men took a knee. "When I saw the mighty beast in the sky I knew then and there your claim to the House of Targaryen was true. I rallied my men as quickly as I could so that we may come and rescue you."

Harold had a feeling something like this was going to happen. He had no clue someone from the House of Velaryon was in Dragonstone but he had assumed the Baratheon soldiers or some of the natives would turn on the Baratheon Lord and try to rescue him once they realized the power he had at his disposal.

Not that he needed rescuing. His dragon would take care of the soldiers all by itself. Either they would die or flee but regardless he would be safe. Once the coast was clear a bit of magic was all he would need to be a free man once again.

Having some followers would help matters though. No one likes to do all the work themselves. Plus this way he could run his sword through that red bitch and her hornless stag.

"And who might I have the pleasure of speaking with" questioned Harold as he looked down on the fair haired man. They looked so much like Targaryens it was ridiculous.

"I am Lord Monford Velaryon my lord" replied the man not looking up from his kneeling position.

So he was talking to the Lord of House Velaryon. That was surprising. "What were you doing on this island Lord Velaryon" demanded Harold.

"After the Upsurper took the Iron Throne the loyalists had to go into hiding until we could build up our power once again. We were also absent a Targaryen to follow so we were forced to follow one of the Upsurper's brothers while we waited."

So the Baratheons had only recently taken the Iron Throne it seemed. "When you said that you couldn't find any Targaryen to follow what do you mean. Is the House of Targaryen dead or simply absent in the male line?"

The Velaryon Lord looked up in confusion but said nothing. "The Upsurper killed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident. Lord Tywin sacked King's Landing under the flag of truce where his men raped and killed Prince Rhaegar's wife Princess Elia Martell. His men also had her two children killed as well. The traitor's son turned his blade on the king killing him even though he was a member of the Kingsguard."

That was all surprising. It seems like the Lannisters and the Baratheons teamed up to take out House Targaryen. What was more shocking was that the Lannisters had allowed the Baratheons to keep the throne. That was very un-Lannister-like of them. No doubt they had a payment plan in mind. Probably positions of power in the new government would be their price.

"What of the Queen? Did she survive?"

"Queen Rhaella was sent here to Dragonstone during the end of the war my lord. She brought her son with her before giving birth to a daughter which soon killed her." The Velaryon Lord actually looked ashamed at this point. "Unfortunately a storm blew in destroying much of the royal fleet. Only a single ship survived which took the Prince and Princess to Essos where they have lived in obscurity ever since."

It took Harold a moment to absorb all this information. What it all boiled down to was a rebellion yet the information he had gotten was nowhere near complete. He would need to do some serious researching once he had secured Dragonstone.

"Uhg what a headache." He gestured for the Lord and his men to stand. "First things first we take Dragonstone. Once we have the keep we can plan for the future." He looked at the Velaryon Lord for a moment. "You may want to prepare your own forces. No doubt this Baratheon King will try and retake Dragonstone and all those who support me will be at risk."

The Velaryon Lord bowed his head once again. "My lord my forces will be ready the moment you call them."

"Good, now help me find this Stannis Baratheon. He and another man who flogged me need to be taught a lesson." He began to walk to the door when a question formed in his head. "What year is it?"

"My Lord?"

"I asked you what year it was." Harold gave the man a serious look.

"It is 298AC my lord."

Harold's purple eyes grew proportionally. "Oh my god!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: The Prince Time Forgot**

 **Chapter Two: Alone**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or A Song of Ice and Fire so please don't sue me**

 **-I am a free writer, and I write when I feel like it, I am not on a schedule, so therefore updates will be infrequent.**

 **-If I lose interest in this story I might just stop writing all together, though in the future I may find interest in it again and then take up updating it then.**

 **-There maybe lemons, profane language, character/death, prostitution, possibly torture or abuse (though not on Harry), lying, and probably other sins. If this bothers you then don't read. You have been warned.**

 **-Harry will participate in polygamy/bigamy, extramarital relations, and other acts of sexuality, though no homosexuality, so if this bothers you then don't read.**

 **XXX**

Having searched Dragonstone from top to bottom Harold had come to a singular conclusion that would stick with him for the rest of his life. That conclusion being that he hated Stannis Baratheon with a deep seething passion. For it was not in the role he or his family played in the fall of his own that he hated him so. In fact Harold felt the Mad King should have been killed long before his time. It wasn't that he had thrown all of those with Valyrian blood out of Dragonstone without any means of providing for themselves while giving said jobs to those who came with him from Storm's End.

No, it was because the man had abandoned his daughter to save his own ass.

Somehow the Red Whore had seen Meraxes coming. While he didn't know all of the details the fact that the castle had not been put on alert told Harold that in all actuality she probably saw something vague. His time in Westeros had been interesting. One thing that had interested him was how often people had prophetic visions or dreams. It was much more common in this world than the one he had first lived in. For this reason he had concluded that the Red Whore must have foreseen something happening that was enough to convince Stannis to escape in the dead of night.

The only problem was he took the Red Whore and his hag of a wife but abandoned his own daughter!

Harold could not believe the man had done such a thing. After killing his way through Baratheon soldiers, dodging spots his dragon had set ablaze, and moving through the caste he had found all of their sleeping quarters abandoned. They had all ran away except for the fact that they left behind their only child.

It was disgusting and Harold had promised himself that he would make Stannis Baratheon pay for his duplicity. A little voice in the back of his head told him that no doubt the Red Priestess was behind this in some way or another. Their use of black magic, their fanatical faith, and their use of seduction was legendary in Essos. Still he squashed that voice.

In both of his lives he had been blessed with parents who willfully put their lives on the line to protect him. His internal ideology of what a parent should be was high. Some slights he was able to look past but the willful neglect or abandonment of one's own flesh and blood was not one of them. And as far as he was concerned Stannis was guilty of both.

"My Lord?"

Harold blinked and looked to his left and saw that Lord Velaryon was looking at him worriedly. When he looked around the room he realized that he had dozed off in his anger during his meeting. He controlled himself. Blushing in embarrassment would make him look like a child to these men. He was basically in hostile territory as far as he was concerned and a show of weakness was not something he could allow. As such he sat up a bit straighter and motioned for them to continue. He didn't say anything trying to keep a strong somewhat mysterious front.

They seemed to catch the message as Lord Velaryon continued to list off the names of lords or their keeps that had sworn loyalty to him. Practically every house in the Blackwater Rush had kneeled before him. They already saw him as their king. It wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't something he ever wanted. But soldiers would be wise to keep around if he wanted to continue living.

As his vassal continued to go on and on about this and that he cast his gaze to the left of himself. Sitting there was Lady Baratheon or Shireen Baratheon as was her real name. As she was the only Baratheon alive on the island he decided to keep her as an ally instead of a prisoner. Plus he owed her after she tried to help him down in the dungeons.

"Lady Baratheon." His voice cut across all of the conversations going on in the room. Now all eyes were on him and Shireen. Obviously this only made the girl more nervous as she tried to ball up in on herself if that were at all possible. "I would like to thank you."

Her eyes, a very beautiful shade of deep blue popped open and flickered towards him. The Greyscale on the right side of her face and neck crumpled slightly at this motion. It disgusted everyone who saw it thought they were wise enough to keep their mouths shut while he spoke.

"It was nothing, My Lord." He voice was just above a whisper. Most had to strain their ears just to hear what she said.

"Speak up girl!" A man who Harold did not know the name of demanded as he slammed a fist onto the table. The girl squeaked at this. Her eyes darted downwards towards the floor as her shoulders curved inwards. If her back arched forwards anymore Harold was sure she would snap. "You speak to King Harold Targaryen! Show some respect!"

An older man who seemed to be the girl's protector spoke up rather violently at that. "Watch your tongue cur!" The men all around the room started to reach for their weapons. "Had Lord Stannis still been here you would not dare to utter such words!"

"Had Lord Stannis still been here our king would have roasted him alive in dragon fire!" The man whose name was still unknown pointed at the other one. "As he should do with you." Before things got any more out of control Harold decided to put an end to it.

"Enough!" The squabble instantly died down. "There is no need for this fighting." He pointed to the man who seemed to think he needed protecting from some scraggly man. "You! What is your name?"

"Geneva Whitesand, My King." The man bowed at the waist nearly bending into a ninety degree angle. "I am a captain of Lord Sunglass' fleet."

"Well Sir Whitesand I expect better from you in the future. Do not assume attacking a child for any reason will please me am I understood. She is simply nervous. As would we all be had we been in her position." He got a shaky yes but it was good enough. "And you. What is your name?"

"I am Davos Seaworthy, My Lord." This bow was more becoming as he bent at the waist enough for respect but not so much he seemed to be groveling. "I am a landed knight of House Baratheon."

Harold examined the man more closely. He was ordinary to say the least. There wasn't anything special about him. He had brown hair that fell to his chin line that was starting to lighten. The well-trimmed bearded around his face was further along with gray more than apparent. Even his eyes were just an ordinary brown color like the hull of a ship. This was pounded upon by the ordinary leather doublet he wore under some kind of woolen green mantle.

"Well Sir Seaworthy I will applaud you for your bravery if nothing else." His eyes danced from the girl to the man. "Since it would no doubt upset Lady Baratheon if I killed you then I shall name you her Sworn Shield." This drew quite the surprise from everyone in the room. Harold stood up and pulled his sword from its sheath. "Kneel." And like that Sir Seaworthy did as he was told. He placed the top of the blade on the man's shoulder. "I, King Harold of Blackwater Bay, hereby name you Sir Seaworthy, Sworn Shield of Lady Baratheon until the day you die." He retracted his sword and slipped it back inside its sheath. "Now rise and stand guard by your lady."

"Yes, My Lord." With a series of short steps the man returned to Shireen's side. Her scared little face brightened at this. She turned to look at him and although it was only for a moment they smiled at one another.

"Does this please you my lady?" She nodded vigorously though she did not speak. "Good." He snapped his fingers. The Maester of Dragonstone came out of nowhere and handed him a jar. "I would still like to thank you for the kindness you showed me in the dungeons." Her eyes grew wider as he got closer. "You gave me something to heal my wounds so I shall return the favor."

He handed the jar over to the nine year old girl. She examined it closely trying to decipher what it was without opening it. She wouldn't find much. It was just an ordinary clay jar he had picked up while in the apothecary. Still it was kind of cute. The way her little face light up in wonder as she went over the object. The sad air she kept about her or the more recent one of fear seemingly evaporated. He liked her this way. It kind of reminded him of the way he felt around his bastard uncle Orys Baratheon.

"It is a cure for Greyscales." The little girl's eyes widened in wonder, hope evident in her small frame. "It is a red paste though I have given it no name. You simply need to apply it to the areas affected by Greyscales. Make sure it is plenty thick and leave it there to harden. It has to be left on for a week but after that you can peel the stuff off. By that time all of the Greyscale should be cured leaving behind only perfectly unblemished skin."

"My lord" began the really old Maester. "There is no cure for Greyscales. Please do not get the girl's hopes up." The man was soon pinned down by cold violet colored eyes.

"And you should not crush a child's hopes. Am I understood?" The Maester bowed his apologies a thousand times over as he apologized to him. He waved him off. "And for your information there is a cure for Greyscales. You simply do not know of it." Before the Maester could ask him anything else he turned to the group of men and women who had sworn their swords to him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an announcement." Like always he commanded their attention completely. "First thing I would like to say is that Lady Shireen Baratheon is to be shown the utmost respect while in these walls. My uncle gave the Baratheons Storm's End and though a few bad apples may have cropped up it does not mean all of them are that way." He continued not giving any of them time to say anything. "Secondly it is about my family in the North."

"Family?"

"Yes. Though my mother was a Targaryen my father was a Stark. By our blood ties they should be obligated to help us. We need to start building alliances if we do not wish the Stag King to show up and attack us."

"Surely my lord with your dragon and our ships no such force could exist that would be a threat." The other men shouted their agreements.

"Fools!" Lord Velaryon seemed to desire his two cents be put in. "Aegon Targaryen and his sister-wives had three mighty dragons and still they were not able to conquer Westeros divided on their own. Now the Seven Kingdoms are a united body that will attempt to repel all that attack it. King Harold's dragon is a mighty beast yet it is still not even as big as Balerion the Black Dread was during The Conquest. If we wish to survive then we will need allies."

That was something that had been bugging Harold for a while now. Why did everyone believe his uncle had married his mother? No matter where he looked no mention of Rhaenys Targaryen marrying Torrhen Stark is written. It's not like they had kept it a secret. His mother had fallen in love with the stern man from the frozen North and was not afraid to tell anyone. In fact she spent just as much time in the North as she did anywhere else. She would have been the Lady of Winterfell had she not fallen in battle all the way South in Dorne.

At first he thought it was an accident. There were not Maesters in every castle in that time and the North was largely ignored. Very little coming and going into the North was done. No war took place during his uncle's conquest of Westeros either. His father had kneeled to the man and his dragons knowing it would only lead to the ruin of the North and his own house. While the Northerners could have used hit and run tactics like Dorne had, and probably would have been just as successful, it would have been a costly.

Some looked down on his father for kneeling without a single battle against Aegon I Targaryen but Harold had seen it as wise. Other fools had tried to meet dragons head on in the field and burned for their stupidity. The cold of the North prevented hotheads from succeeding.

Yet for some reason he just couldn't accept this. His uncle and his two sisters were conquering an entire continent. Everyone knew who they were and what they were doing. For everyone to forget that the youngest sister was marrying the former King in the North just seemed far to unlikely. Something must have happened to make people forget. What that something was he didn't know. He also could not understand why anyone would want him forgotten in the first place.

He shook his head. There would be time to think about such things later. "In my absence Lord Velaryon will take command of Dragonstone. Your son will take control of Driftmark. I hear he is quite the capable young man. If so then there should be no fear he will disappoint."

The Lord of Driftmark slammed his fist over his chest in salute. "Of course my lord. My son and I will be honored."

Harold nodded before addressing his men once again. "Also, representatives will be sent to the Free Cities in search of allies. I doubt we get to much but some is better than none. Lord Velaryon I am sure you will be able to find someone capable of such a job." He got a resounding yes from the man once again.

"Finally I would like for Aurane Waters to be sent to the Stepstones." That surprised quite a number of people. "Have him look and see if there are any allies there we can make use of. Also have him try and find the hideouts pirate lords make such liberal use of. If they will not be called to heel then we may need to burn them out. By taking control of the Stepstones we will gain power over the Narrow Sea. This may be just the leverage we need to force the Stag King to peace agreements."

"That may be an issue my lord." A speaker came from the back.

"And who might I be talking with?" He eyed the man closely. "You seem to know me but I do not know you."

The man stood to his feet. He was on the tall side at possibly six foot three feet tall. Not overly muscular yet not willowy. He seemed to be a swordsman who relied upon speed. His clothing was nice but worn so doubtfully he would be someone of great importance of wealth. On top of that he didn't wear a house sigil so nobility was probably out of the question. Still he was a young and somewhat handsome man with dark teak colored eyes and shaggy brown hair. A landed knight would have been his guess.

"My apologies your grace." He bowed quickly. "My name is Rolland Darklyn, the last of House Darklyn." There were murmurs from those sitting at his table. He figured there was something he was missing but he ignored it.

"Very well Lord Darklyn please continue."

"I apologize once again your grace but I am a Sir not a Lord." Harold couldn't care less. "My family lost our keep a long time ago."

"As you so rightly deserved!" That was the resounding opinion of most in the room.

"You slighted our King's house!" Again there were more emphatic agreement going around the room.

Instead of getting angry Rolland actually looked apologetic. "Yes it is true, but I hope by serving our king faithfully any slights of the past may be forgiven." 'And get you your castle back' thought Harold with a role of the eyes that most missed. He was soon brought back to the conversation. "As I was saying if we are looking for allies in the Free Cities then setting our sights on the Stepstones could become problematic."

His left eyebrow raised. "How so?"

"The Free Cities have been fighting for control of the Stepstones for hundreds of years. Most of them claim rights to them though none of the City-States put forth the effort to conquer them." That was something he hadn't known. Maybe this guy could be of use after all. "The three main ones who fight for control are Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh. If we start to take them then not only will these cities deny us any help but they will no doubt declare war on us."

"Hmmm, I didn't know that."

He paused to think. In his own opinion only Tyrosh had any real chance of ruling the Steps. Everyone else was just too far or were blocked by the other. That and Tyrosh had been built as a Valyrian fortress to control the Narrow Sea. Seems only obvious that it would be in the best position to do so. That being said he didn't know how they ruled. It could be completely different from what he had learned growing up. Obviously two hundred plus years was plenty of time for things to change.

"It seems things have changed in the last two hundred and fifty years or so. But still that doesn't mean we cannot get the support we want. We just have to be more sneaky about it."

"How so your grace?"

"Once the forces from the Free Cities are on this side of the Narrow Sea then we will have majority control over them. At this point we antagonize the pirates who refused to join us. After they amass their forces we have cause to attack them. Once this happens we will use the forces we get from the Free Cities as the front line fighters. Of course this will leave them decimated but our own forces no worse for wear. With our enemies dead and our rivals weakened the Stepstones will be ripe for the taking."

"But what if the Free Cities do not send us very many or any ships to help us?" Harold could not identify the man questioning him. "What is the plan then my lord?

"If we do not receive much support then taking the Steps will take longer than I would like for it to. Though if we learn the location of their pirate dens and fortresses then Meraxes can reduce them to ash." He looked around the room making sure he had their attention. "Our goal won't be to eradicate the pirates at this point. Merely forcing them out would be for the best. This will mean that the other Free Cities will have to deal with them instead of us. By the time they are ready to retaliate we should be dug in deep enough to repel them."

It was a risky gamble. Not only was he practically all of Westeros' enemy at this point but he was antagonizing a powerful portion of Essos as well. Even if he did succeed he would have two powerful forces trying to destroy him from both sides. His only chance to succeed was to gain superior naval power to repel his enemies while making such of the raw destructive force that was Meraxes. If he could capitalize on these two things then he would succeed. Still he needed to keep his allies happy and ignorant at the moment.

He smiled and looked at the assembly of men. "And then there will be a series of islands to divide amongst those loyal to me. Surely some of you have a second son or a bastard who will not inherit anything? Perhaps they may become the lord of an island in the Steps? Maybe even start their own house."

Harold soon left the room as his men nearly went crazy. They all expected to be the ones to inherit something. That or have one of their daughters marry whoever received the island for themselves. It was a hope he left them with. There was no need to remind them that there was only fifteen islands in the Narrow Sea. Even he knew that much. Plus there was a time limit so whoever he gave the islands to would already need to be men capable of commanding others and prioritizing an entire island filled with possibly hostile people. Children would not get a thing from him. They would have no use to him.

 **XXX**

Harold Targaryen-Stark was not an idiot. His mother and father had seen to that. Plus his natural aptitude derived from two of the most powerful bloodlines in existence left little room for errors. He knew that as he walked through Dragonstone the Stag King would be talking with whoever his advisors were. A war would breakout very soon. Thankfully he had some time. With practically the entirety of the Royal Fleet defecting from the Iron Throne to Dragonstone meant that the Stag King would have to draw in forces from elsewhere.

There was a fleet in the Reach that was very powerful as was there one in the Iron Islands and the Westerlands. While still very much behind in catching up on his history he knew that the Iron Islands would never lend Robert Baratheon their ships and he would never ask them to. With the Stag married to the Lion there was no doubt their fleets would come to the aid of their Queen. If they merged their fleet with that of the fleet in the Reach then they would possess a truly formidable force.

If that were to happen then they would possess a force roughly a third or more ships then his own. If he factored in Meraxes then those odds evened out quickly. It was a bit too close for his liking. That was also why he wanted more ships from the Free Cities. Hopefully it would be enough to scare their enemies into being cautions.

With enough time he would be able to grab hold of enough resources to fight off his enemies. He was lucky that the sea was a natural barrier protecting him from the armies of Westeros. There hasn't been a dragon born that could slay so many men by itself. Luckily ships are made from wood and dragon fire makes ash of such things rather quickly. That gave him one advantage on top of his ability to attack from the sky.

It was for this reason he had returned to Meraxes so quickly after his meeting. With enough supplies packed in a satchel on his dragon's saddle he would make a straight shot for Winterfell. It was obvious convincing the Starks there would be infinitely difficult. His only real badge of proof that he was from the past was Meraxes. At least his mother's dragon had been well documented and remembered. With her size and coloring no one could deny she was the second largest dragon used during The Conquest.

"My Lord I would ask once again for you to reconsider." Lord Velaryon seemed honest yet it was marred by his instinctual fear of the massive beast for which his master sat upon. "It is too dangerous."

If he had a nickel for every time someone said that to him. "We need allies and this could be the quickest means to gain them." He gestured in the rough direction of Winterfell. "The North cannot be conquered so it needs to be brought in willingly. The only thing that may break this friendship between Stag and Wolf may very well be blood. With the North as our ally things will get infinitely easier."

"Yes my lord but though this may be the quickest way it is also the most dangerous one." He took a step closer though paused as Meraxes growled at him. "At least take some soldiers with you. It would put us all at ease."

Harold turned to look at the silver haired man. "I know that this puts you all in a dangerous position. Should my dragon and I die then the alliance of Blackwater Bay would fall apart. And should this happen then the Stag King will no doubt punish you all severally. I am sorry for putting you all in this bind I really am. But the Starks are my family. They may be the only family I have left. You understand that don't you Monford?"

The man sighed heavily. "I do my lord. Just please be careful. Your plans are brilliant and people will follow you because of what's in your blood. On top of that you ride atop a creature made from fire and built to destroy all who defy it. Such a beast seemingly pulled from a child's fantasy and given form yet undeniable to the greatest of fools proves without a doubt your right to rule. Without you we are lost."

"Do not fear my friend I shall not die. Not even in a thousand years do I believe the Starks would discard their honor. Once salt and bread are offered to me no hard will come to my person regardless if we become allies or enemies. Guest Rights are honored throughout all of Westeros but especially in the North." He paused for a moment. "Also, tell your bastard brother Aurane Waters should he do a sufficient job then he shall be rewarded greatly. I shall legitimize him, give him a right to start his own house, and give him an island in the Steps of his choosing."

Lord Monford Velaryon gasped in shock. He kneeled to his king instantly. "This is truly a kingly reward your majesty. In my brother's place until he can do so properly let me thank you. He shall not disappoint you."

"See to it that he doesn't for whether he succeeds or fails may be what decides our own fates." That was quite ominous. "The more allies he draws from the Steps will help us but the more enemies he makes will only hurt us. We need to know where their pirate dins are, their fortresses, their numbers, and their resources. For this to work information will be key."

With that Meraxes took off. Her wings cracking like the thunderbolts of angry gods. The winds kicked up by such a mighty beast were nearly enough to send the other man off of his feet and down to a painful though rather short death. Yet for his sake they had just glided away until sufficiently far before the dragon's mighty wings of gold membrane truly went to work. It was like a work of art seeing the creature rising over the mighty fortress and into the sky. That such sights were once common was a foreign concept to him.

Still he pulled himself together quickly. His king had given him many important duties. He obviously held great hope for his family if his honoring of his bastard brother was anything to go on. If he played his cards right he may become Hand of the King. With Westeros no doubt in a system of dishevel many opportunities would arise. He may even be able to get his family control of their own kingdom. It was only right. They too had the blood of the dragon in their veins. It wasn't as strong as the Targaryen's, which is why they were not kings themselves, but surely it was enough to become a Lord Paramount.

Now that he thought of it his second son was six years old. Lady Shireen Baratheon was nine years old. During the Conquest the last Storm King Argilac the Arrogant was slain by Orys Baratheon and his only child, a daughter, was then married to him. That is how the Baratheons got Storm's End in the first place. If he took from this then it may be possible for House Velaryon to become the new Lords of Storm's End through his son and Shireen. Such thoughts were very opportunistic but the opportunity was there. He just had to make sure things happened correctly.

'Perhaps I should call Montick back from Driftwood.' He cast his gaze back towards Dragonstone. 'There are no other children who are allowed to play with Lady Shireen here on Dragonstone. Perhaps a friend could be of use to her. And if she and he became close friends suggesting marriage could work out in our favor.'

He would have to think on this. Regardless of desire his king would have to approve the marriage. Just because the daughter of a defeated house wanted to marry someone didn't mean she would. His king could just as easily strip Storm's End from the Baratheon's making them nothing more than peasants. Still people didn't forget quickly. Marrying into the blood of a past ruler made maintaining order easier than simply disposing of them. Regardless of what happened keeping her happy would be in his best interest.


End file.
